Night Shift

 

Night Shift

 

Gin and cigarettesB

he always smelled of them..

He drank until his pores exuded the scent of gin.

The smoke of the day=s cigarettes

wove its silver threads through his clothes

to be absorbed into his skin.

Nightly I wrapped myself in his blankets

to absorb it.

Outside the wind flapped the plastic on the windows

and the house shuddered.

I counted the hours of the night shift

by the blue flickering

of the television he left

tuned to ESPN.

Listening, half asleep

for Sports Center to signal 7 AM,

to be followed by the creak of the door.

Eyes closed I waited

to hear his shirt fall upon the floor,

to feel the bed sink beside me,

and at last inhale him.                           

 

 

Reviews

[wolfsshadow25]

that was very interesting to read.

[John D Phillips]

I think it's great. It's quiet, earthy and beautiful. The only interruption of its timelessness is the reference to ESPN SportsCenter, which though appropriate and truthful might date the poem and by connotation leads my mind away from the calm subtlety of tone you've created. Great work.